The Caffrey Puzzle
by AnnaBannanan
Summary: After spending a year and a half chasing one Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke is a little concerned when the thief suddenly disappears from the FBI's radar. However, what he is about to discover during an unrelated sting will turn his world upside down and change how he looks at the allusive criminal from now on. AU. Teen!Neal.
1. Prologue

In all honestly I have no idea what is going to become of this. The start of the story line just popped in my head the other day and now I'm uploading what I have. School starts in a few weeks and seeing as this is my senior year at college it is going to be busy. I'll probably make mistakes, so I'm totally open to people pointing them out to me, just do it productively. I should also note this is my first ever fanfiction so yeah…. Enjoy.

-.-

"Hey boss, Ruticker just accepted to meet you at the docks tomorrow. We should be able to get them once he accept your deal." Diana's voice came over the phone as Peter sat down on the safe house's sofa.

"Good. We'll finally be able to put them behind bars." As he adjusted the cushion behind him he asked hesitantly. "Any new news on Caffrey?"

"On James Bonds? No, nothing. It's like he just disappeared four months ago. Some of the paintings connected to Ruticker have traits of his but there is no way Caffrey would work with Ruticker."

Peter grunted. That was an understatement. They might not know what Caffery looked like, might not have only learned his name six months ago but they definitely knew there was no way Caffrey would work with Ruticker. A man who wouldn't hesitate to kill those who got in his way. Kill them or use them. Ruticker was always the business man, not letting an opportunity to put more money in his pockets go to waste.

"Have you got any more cards from him?" Diana's words jolted Peter back.

"No, nothing." Over the year and half he had chased Caffrey he had been getting cards sent to him from his prey. Birthday cards, anniversary cards, 'see you soon' cards and 'how you doing' cards. It was strange, a little worrisome seeing as at times it felt as if Caffrey knew more about him then he knew about Caffrey. Hell, they had only found out his name six months ago when Caffrey blurted it out during a phone call.

Peter smiled. He still remembered that phone call he received sitting at his office desk.

 _"Hey Peter, did you find it yet?" The voice was young confirming Peter's acceptations that James Bonds was probably in his twenty or thirties._

 _"Who is this?" Peter asked though he already had an idea._

 _"Aw Peter, don't you know my name yet?" The voice taunted yet sounded disappointed._

 _"Oh I know plenty of your names. Gary Rydell, George Donnelly, Nicholas Halden, to name a few but I'm still working on finding your real name." Peter said somewhat enjoying the banter._

 _"It's Neal George Caffrey." The name came through the receiver without any hesitation so quickly Peter almost fell out of his chair. Did this kid just give him, Peter Burke the man who was chasing him, wanting to put him behind bars, his real name?_

 _"Peter? Peter I'm not lying. Neal Caffrey is the name I go by. It's not an alias."_

 _The voice on the other side of the phone lines brought Peter out of his stupor. "You really expect me to believe that? That you just gave me your real name without me interrogating you or you messing up?"_

 _There was a sound on the other of the line that sounded suspiciously of a door slamming open. Then Caffrey's voice entered again sounding rattled. "Believe what you want Peter. I have to go."_

 _The line went dead._

It didn't take much after that to find records of a Neal G. Caffrey but no birth record, or photos. Nothing to tell them what James Bonds looked like or how old he was. The only thing it gave them was a paper trail that matched with what they had on James Bonds.

It was weird now having a name, a seemingly real name, to refer to the still faceless forger, thief and conman. But there was still one thing about that phone call that bothered Peter. What was it that Caffrey was referring to? _"Peter, did you find it yet?"_ Find what yet? Caffrey hadn't done something FBI worthy that week. In fact the only Caffrey related thing that had happened in almost a month was a 'how are you doing' card that was sent to Peter.

"Make sure you are wired up tomorrow Boss and we'll see you once we've got Ruticker and his gang behind bars." Diana's voice brought Peter's mind out of its ramblings.

"Will do Diana. Let El know I'm okay and see you tomorrow." As Diana said goodnight and hung up all Peter could think of was he was missing some key piece to the Caffrey puzzle.

Caffrey's hopeful voice flooded his mind. _"Did you find it yet?"_

-.-


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Yeah, okay, this chapter is like over twice as long as the first. Didn't expect that! (Picture David Tennant saying it like he said "double meaning in that!" in Much Ado About Nothing).

Also didn't expect so much support from all of you. Thank you *hug*. I really can't believe it and you had me smiling and blushing all day long. Thank you, thank you!

I also want to make clear (because I realize now that I didn't in the first chapter) that I totally do not plan on abandoning this fic. It just might not update as often during the fall semester. Right now I am updating as it is written. Once school starts on the 16th it might be weekly or even bi-weekly. We'll just have to see. I'm kind of hoping (but not really seeing it happen) that I'll finish it this next week.

And yeah. I had to add the "The" to the title because I'm just the kind of person that will be driven nuts over that.

Okay on with the show…

-.-

The next day at a warehouse on the docks.

The deal with Ruticker was almost done. All they had to do was agree on a method of payment.

"You seem like the kind of man who wants his property to make him money Mr. Lead. Are you that kind of man?" Ruticker asked his cold gray eyes studying Peter.

"I suppose I am. Any smart man would see the benefit in that." Peter answered and it was true any smart person would see the benefit, but it scared Peter to think of the ways this man before him could distort it.

Ruticker smiled at his answer allowing for perfectly straight and yellow teeth to overtake his wrinkled but perfectly manscaped face. "Good, good." He motioned one of his henchmen forward. "I don't exactly have the 20 thousand on hand, just 10 thousand, thanks to the FBI crashing on my last project." This was said bitterly before quickly moving on, not allowing Peter a word in edgewise. "I do, however, have a piece of property that could easily double that ten grand within a month or two you can have. If you'd like?"

Peter nodded, a little worry of where this was headed. However, he just wanted to make the deal and leave so they could arrest these creeps. "I see no reason why not. If you think this piece of property is worth that much?"

"Oh I do, Mr. Lead." Ruticker interrupted.

"However, I must ask why you are so eager to get rid of this property if it's so valuable?" Peter asked, a little surprised at how eager Ruticker was for the deal. _Guess if you are desperate for the means to flee the country you get eager._ Of course, Peter couldn't appear too eager either less the creep got suspicious.

Ruticker laughed. "Oh, if I could keep it I would Mr. Lead. However, with us leaving the country tomorrow I sadly cannot."

Peter rolled his shoulders. "Very well. I guess it is a good thing I am here to take it off your hands less it goes to waste."

"Deal?"

"Deal." Peter answered Ruticker as the criminal motioned one henchman to go get the property and the other to open the briefcase of money.

It didn't take long for Peter to verify the money, it wouldn't matter anyway after Ruticker was behind bars, but he was done by the time the henchman was returning with the property.

The property which turned out to be a struggling teenage boy.

Worry blossomed in Peter's gut. There was no way the teenager was anything but that. He couldn't be any older than 15, 16 if he was lucky. One more thing was wrenching at Peter's gut as it was made clear. There was no way the teenager was coming on his own freewill.

The boy was pulling against the henchman, trying to go around him, behind him, push into and pull away from him. Anything to get away. Every once in a while a wheezing cough would rattle its way through the boy's bones.

About halfway, from the door they came from and Ruticker, the henchman stopped as the kid almost got away. Taking one bulky hand from the boy's wrists he placed it one the boy's throat. The boy stilled instantly. Never moving a muscle. It was just a warning. The boy could still breathe but it was obvious there had been times before today he could not.

He didn't move, not till the other henchman, at Ruticker's command, took one of the boy's arms. Then, and only then, did the other henchman let go of the boy's throat. Together the two of them dragged the, once again, protesting boy by his arms to Ruticker and Peter.

Immediately the boy began to spit at Ruticker.

"I won't do it! Whatever it is I won't do it!" A coughing fit brock into is desperate shouting. "You could let me go. Really you could. I'm no use to you anymore. I wouldn't tell anyone I promise."

Ruticker smirked and that was when Peter noticed the crudely splintered right hand.

The boy seemed to almost growl. Well, growl as much as he could seeing as his breathing was nothing but rasps. "I'll bust my other hand!" When he still got no response from Ruticker he seemed to deflate. "Nothing you'll do will make me do it. Nothing. Just kill me already." His shouting grew soft at the end and made Peter feel sick behind his disguise of nonchalant lowlife.

Ruticker growled. "Shut him up!"

It didn't take long for the two henchmen to gag and tape the boy's mouth shut.

The boy still coughed or tried to at least, through the gag. Soon though he just sagged in the henchman's grip as he stared daggers at Ruticker.

"This Mr. Lead." Ruticker smirked again as he took the boy's chin and tilted it up. "Is Neal Caffrey."

Ruticker's smirk only broadened when he saw the way Peter's jaw went slack and his attention snapped to the boy. His slimy, yet manicured hands dropped the boy's head before lifting the boy's right hand which was encased in an odd exoskeleton of wood and bandages. As the hand was moved for inspection it drew a wince from the boy whose eyes shut with pain. "He busted his hand about a month back, but there was no nerve damage of any kind. He should be right as rain here in a few weeks."

Having noted Peter was still staring slack-jawed at the boy Ruticker smirked again. "I take it you have heard of Caffrey, Mr. Lead?" Though he phrased it as one, it really wasn't a question.

At Peter's nod he continued. "Hard to believe such talent could be found in one so young."

As Ruticker talked, Peter took the time to actually look at the kid. Dark brown, floppy hair hung down below the boy's ears and in front of his piercing blue eyes. Though those same eyes were bright with a fire Peter couldn't help but feel they were duller than they should be. That coupled with the flush on the boy's face gave the appearance of a fever. Of course the rattling noise the boy was producing with every breath also helped give the opppression of illness. The boy also seemed to hang between the two henchmen, relying on them to keep him upright.

The very appearance of the boy made Peter angry at the boy's wardens and oddly protective of the very person he was meant to be hunting.

But this boy? This teenage boy, this child really, could he actually be Neal Caffrey? The elusive master forger, thief and conman Peter had been going after for a year and a half? It hardly seemed likely. Yet, if he could get this kid, who might be Caffrey, out of Ruticker's hands he'd count it as a win. And if, (and boy was a huge _if_ ) on some off chance it really was Neal Caffrey then he'd also count it as a win. Though it would be a disappointing end to his chase.

"I can see you thinking now Mr. Lead. I assure you this boy can forge you anything your heart desires. In fact, before he broke his hand, he had just finished some paintings for the Brooklyn Museum."

 _Which are now in the possion of the FBI._ Peter thought, which only made him think of what Diana had said the night before _"Some of the paintings connected to Ruticker have traits of his."_

 _Damn, maybe this is Caffrey?_

The boy struggled to cough behind the gag again.

"It is what we agreed on Ruticker. I won't back out. Though we will see if he holds up to what you promise." Peter looked at his watch to hide the grimace that etched his face as the boy whimpers at his words. "I do, however, need to be going."

Ruticker nodded as he digs a package out of his breast pocket and handed it to the thinner of the henchmen. "Of course, of course. Let's just package your payment up, shall we?"

Peter could see the whites of boy's eyes now as he struggled in the grip of the bulky henchman as the other came nearer with the needle and syringe that had come out of Ruticker's package. The boy's struggles abruptly lessen as soon as the lug's hand grabbed his throat again. This time his fear is far too great to completely stop is withering.

Ruticker could see the way Peter was looking at the syringe suspiciously. "It's just a sedative to make transport easier." Ruticker said flatly as if this was ordinary business.

Peter nodded as he watched the henchman take hold of the thrashing arm, struggling to keep it still as he drugged the boy. It doesn't take long for the boy to go limp. His crystal blue eyes, full of fear, blinked slowly before rolling into his head and closing.

"You'll have a half an hour to get him someplace secure. I suggest someplace without locks for him to pick. He can get out cuffs too." Ruticker said to Peter before turning to his men. "Take him to Mr. Lead's car, will you?"

The henchman still holding the boy's throat, in spite of the boy being unconscious, nodded before throwing the boy onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

It took all of Peter's will to keep himself composed as he shook Ruticker's hand before taking the briefcase of money and leading the henchman outside to his car. There the henchman placed the unconscious boy in the back seat, ripped off the tape and gag, and, surprisingly, buckled him in.

Seeing Peter's surprise the henchman smiled. "Less suspicious dis way. Looks like he just 'ell asleep 'ile you're driving 'im."

Peter nodded, understanding squishing his gut, before getting in his car and driving off.

When they are about a block away and pass _The Van_ Peter talked. "I hope you got all that. They're all yours. I'm getting this kid back to the safe house as quickly as I can."

He didn't hear a response. He couldn't with a one way radio, but by looking out the rearview mirror he could see the agents piling out of the _The Van_ and other strategic places to flood the warehouse.

From there, it doesn't take much for his gaze to shift to the boy in the back seat. A quick look is all he gets but it is enough for his gut to pinch.

Part of him wanted to believe the sick and unconscious kid in his backseat was just a poor unfortunate who would, finally, be getting a chance at life. Another part of him wanted to believe the kid was Neal Caffrey, James Bonds, and this finally meant they had him.

Yet another part of him, the part that was no doubt the stongest, and strangest, kept asking 'What if it's both?'


	3. Chapter 2

Warning: Mention of cannibalism in reference to the sinking of the Essex and the Edger Allan Poe novel. Also a mention of throwing up, but no actual throwing up happens.

Thank you guys for all the reviews, favorites, and followings. I plan of fixing the last chapter when I get home from work this evening. I am horrible at heterographs. The last chapter had a few and I'm sure you guys will find more. I'd really appreciate it if you guys pointed them out to me, like you have been. Thank you.

This chapter got really long, again. Enjoy…

-.-

Chapter 3

It would take roughly 25 minutes for Peter to drive to the safe house. Peter knew, he'd timed it.

Exactly 15 minutes into the drive Hughes called. _Damn, news travels fast._

He didn't even get a 'hello' in before Hughes asked "Is it really him, Peter?"

Peter stole another glance at the unconscious boy in the back seat before answering. "I don't know. He is a lot younger than we thought he'd be."

Hughes didn't answer right away and when he does he is hesitant. "How much younger?"

Peter sighs as he switches lanes. "We thought he was in his mid-twenties or early thirties. He's not."

"How much younger, Peter? How old would you guess he is? 18, 19, what?"

"15. 16 is pushing it. He is half the age we thought he was.

"Damn, that's young." Hughes' voice came over the line, softly.

"It is and it doesn't seem likely this is Caffrey, but those paintings of Ruticker's do have Caffrey traits to them."

Peter could hear Hughes sighing on the other line.

"Where are you taking him?" Hughes finally asked.

"Back to the safe house." He stole another glance at the boy, who, in spite of being unconscious, was coughing. "Though I should be taking him to the hospital."

"Is he injured?" Hughes quickly asked, worried.

"No, not really injured. Though Ruticker did break his hand a while back."

"Then what are you worried about?" Hughes interrupted.

"He's coughing and wheezing. I think he has got a fever too."

"But nothing too bad?" Hughes asked hesitantly.

"No. I guess not. Why Hughes?"

"We've still got some loose ends to wrap up with Ruticker and I think it might be safer for you and the kid if you stayed at the safe house for a little longer."

 _Oh right. Ruticker's psycho kid, the one with a gun._

"Alright I'll take him to the safe house just don't leave me there hanging with the kid too long."

"We'll try not to, Peter"

"He will need a hospital before long, Hughes."

"I'll call you as soon as I know It is safe, Peter." With that Hughes hung up.

Peter sighed as he put the phone away and kept driving.

It didn't take much longer to drive to the safe house and before Peter knew it he was opening the kid's door.

Peter stared at the kid as soon as the door opened. He was still unconscious, but he was starting to stir. What really got Peter's attention though was the boy's bare feet. It was the middle of March with a high in the low forties and the kid was barefoot in jeans and a polo. Peter was cold even with his coat on. He couldn't imagine how cold the kid would be.

Closing the door, to keep the heat in, Peter went to the trunk. Silently making a note to thank El later. He dug out the old blanket she had stashed back there. The old comforter was worn around the edges, but it was warm and covered the boy.

He was halfway to the door with the bundled conman when he passed an older couple. Their suspicious, questioning eyes made Peter fidget. _I do look a little suspicious carrying a teenager._

"He just got is tonsils out. Still a bit out of it from the anesthesia." Peter said trying to cover his tracks. He really didn't need the police to be called.

The boy decided at that moment to moan and snuggle deeper into Peter's grip.

The woman smiled. "I'm sure the offer of ice cream will perk him up. Though our boys always liked orange juice when they weren't quite with it. They didn't have to worry about it melting.

Peter nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

The couple smiled before walking on, allowing for Peter to finally make it to the safe house.

The boy instantly snuggled into the blanket as soon as Peter put him down on the sofa. He was starting to come to.

Running to the bathroom, Peter rummaged through the first aid kit for Tylenol and a thermometer. He smiled when he found the ear thermometer. _That will make this ten times easier._

The boy was still asleep when he brought his findings to the living room. Asleep, but starting to stir. Remembering how light the boy was when he carried him in Peter rummaged through the pantry. Finding a cup-of-noodles, he decided to make it.

When he came back into the living room with the cooked noodles and a sandwich for himself the boy's crystal blue eyes were on him.

"Hello." Peter said coming to a stop at the end of the sofa.

The boy curled into himself, forming a ball at the opposite end of the sofa. "Whatever it is you want me for I won't do it."

Peter sighed as he sat down on the sofa. He wasn't ready for this.

The boy spoke still staring at Peter. "Ruticker lied. I can't forge anything. I'm not that Caffrey dude he said I was."

Peter's heart jumped. It wasn't Caffrey. This sick, abused and far too thin kid was not Caffrey. Caffrey was still out there being his 'devil-may-care' self. Peter felt oddly comforted by that.

"What is your name then?"

"George Danvary." The name was spit out quickly and without any hesitation.

Peter's gut wrenched as the now familiar feeling hit. George Danvary was one of Caffrey's aliases. "Neal"

"I'm not Neal."

Peter stopped and looked at the boy. His blue eyes were full of fear as they glared out from beneath his knees which were held close to him. Peter understood now. If they, the FBI, didn't know what Caffrey looked like maybe Caffrey didn't know what he looked like.

"Who do you think I am?" Peter asked slowly, calmly.

"I… What?" The boy asked, confused.

"Who do you think I am?"

The boy stared at him, for what seemed like forever, before answering slowly as if he was still confused. "Ruticker called you Lead."

Peter nodded. "I'm FBI. Lead was my cover."

At the mention of FBI, the boy's head shot up. "FBI?"

"Yes." Peter said nodding.

"Prove it!" The boy demanded looking every bit authoritative.

Peter sighed. He wasn't about to go get his badge. "My name is Peter Burke."

The boy's eyes grew big. "I… I still don't believe you." The boy said hesitantly.

"Okay." Peter said calmly and slowly. "You've sent me cards over the last year and a half. That's how long I've been chasing you. Those same cards always have a hand drawn or a hand painted picture on the front of them."

"Did you ever figure it out?" The kid asked having accepted the truth.

"Figured what out?" Peter asked, confused.

The boy sighed, looking resigned. "Nothing. It doesn't matter anymore."

Worry etched its way into Peter. "Neal-"

"Am I going to jail?" The boy interrupted sounding every bit his age.

"I… I don't know. You're a lot younger than we thought you were."

"Oh."

Silence seemed to tick on for an eternity.

"But, hey, let's not worry about that now." Peter said trying to get the kid out of his glum. Which, frankly, was making Peter uncomfortable. "Let's see if we can get that fever of yours down. We'll just see where it is at." As he spoke he brought the ear thermometer up to the kid's ear.

The boy shied away from it, moving sideways to avoid it. "No."

Peter swallowed. "I need to know your temperature. This just goes in your ear to find out for me." When the boy still didn't budge Peter held the thermometer out to him. "You can do it if you want. This part just goes in your ear. You push this button and it'll beep at you when it's done."

Caffrey studied Peter before carefully taking the thermometer and putting it in his ear. His eyes stayed glued to Peter as he held the device in his ear.

When it beeped he handed it back. Peter frowned when he read it. "We defiantly need to try and cool you down."

Grabbing a packet of pills and the water bottle he handed them to the boy.

"What are they?"

"Tylenol. It'll help your fever to go down."

The boy pushed the pills away. "I'm not taking those. I'm allergic. Unless you want me puking my brains out while my throat constricts and I seize and my heart races I'm not taking those."

Peter blinked. He didn't know an allergic reaction to Tylenol could do that. "Okay. Yeah, you are not taking these." He said while putting the pills back on the coffee table. "You are going to drink that water and eat this, though." He said giving him the styrofoam cup of noodles.

The boy's nose crinkled at the food. "I'm not really hungry but thanks." He held the cup out for Peter to take back.

"At least drink the broth. You are way too skinny to not be hungry." When the boy's nose crinkled some more Peter offered him his sandwich. "Drink the broth, maybe eat the noodles, or you can eat the sandwich. Either way you are eating something."

The boy raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll drink the stupid broth. You don't have to try and poison me." He sipped the broth. "What is that anyway? It smells foul."

Peter smirked, taking a bite of the sandwich in question. "Deviled Ham."

The boy gagged. "You're going to make me sick."

"You already are sick."

"Harr, harr." The boy smiled before taking another sip of his broth.

Peter smiled. "Stay here. I'm going to get you a cold washcloth. We really do need to try and get that fever down."

"I'm barefoot. You really think I'm going to run?"

"I'm sure you'd be able to find a way to." Peter said making his way to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Peter." It was said genuinely, with just a hint of teasing.

Peter smiled.

When he came out a few minutes later he half expected the kid to be gone, but he was wrong. The boy was sitting on the sofa, with his feet on the rug, but still snuggled into the blanket. He had found the remote and was now watching a documentary on whales.

"Do you know what Herman Melville is famous for?" The kid asked after taking another mouthful of broth.

Peter sat down and put the wet washcloth on the boy's forehead before answering, confused as to where the question had come from. "Melville? Is he the guy who wrote _Moby Dick_?"

"Yeah. That is what he is famous for. Do you know that same novel ruined his writing career? People thought he was nuts. Thought he was promoting paganism and it was really different from what he had written before. Really from anything that was being written at the time."

Peter was impressed. A young teenager who cared about American Literature. Then again it was Caffrey. "Well, it is a big book."

The kid rolled his eyes without ever taking them away from the tv. Though Peter could tell they weren't really watching anything. "It's a novel, Peter, not a short story. Read _Bartleby, the Scrivener_ if you want a short story."

"'I would prefer not to.'" Peter quoted.

The smile that lite the boy's face was worth it. "You've read it?"

Peter chuckled. "Once. In college. That line always stuck with me."

"Yeah, it has a way of doing that." The boy said quietly.

"I didn't know, by the way, that _Moby Dick_ was such a failure when it was written."

"Yeah" The boy took another sip of his broth before he continued. "A bull sperm whale really did hit a whaleship and left its crew abandoned on the open sea. The Essex sunk in November 1820. Melville actually met both the survivors. There were only two by the time they were rescued."

Peter watched the boy's eyes flicker shut before opening again. The boy was falling asleep.

"Edger Allan Poe's only novel _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket_ was probably also influenced by the Essex. At the very least in the cannibalism that happened after the ship sank."

Peter swallowed, staring at his half eaten sandwich before putting it down.

"Poe's really sick. You know that Peter? He was one creepy dude." The boy said almost dropping his cup.

"Okay, that's enough, Neal." Peter said, taking the boy's cup, which he was happy to note was half way empty, out of the boy's hand. "Just go to sleep."

The boy yawned as he drew his feet back up onto the sofa and leaned over to the armrest. "Okay."

Peter watched the boy. He was out like a light. Becoming boneless, like only those in a deep sleep can, in just minutes.

Shaking his head Peter sighed as he turned the channel to a game. _This kid is a strange one._


	4. Chapter 3

Note: Neal does use the F bomb quite loudly in this chapter. I do try to avoid swearing in my stories but if I feel the need for them is justified I will. Neal will try to use swear words later in the story only for Peter to reprimand him for doing so.

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and followers. It really means a lot that you guys keep reading it. Thank you again!

I feel like Neal has done nothing but sleep in this story and Peter is a little ADD. I also really hate how much of a douchebag Hughes is in this story so far. He is one of my favorite characters on the show so I don't know why I am writing him this way.

Sorry about the late/short chapter. When I went to post it on Wednesday (I think it was, or was it Tuesday?) was having some problems. Of course when that went away my laptop, the only computer with the chapters on it decided to act up and not work. Thankfully it was just a virus that we could isolate it. It just took a few days.

Did you ever notice that we, typically, say "the hospital" instead of "a hospital"?

Enjoy

-.-

Chapter 3

-.-

Peter stirred. He had fallen asleep on the sofa. It was a nice sofa, overstuffed, and very comfortable.

 _Crap, Caffrey!_

Opening his eyes, Peter figured he would be alone but the radiating heat at his side, and the dark mop of hair on his shoulder told him otherwise.

At some point during Peter's nap the kid had curled up next to him. His head was on Peter's shoulder, the blanket held tight and tucked up to his ears. Sweat beaded on his brow and soaked his hair.

"Caffrey?" Peter said nudging the boy with his arm.

All he got in response was moan as the boy nuzzled his face between Peter's shoulder and the sofa.

"Neal!"

"I'm cold." The boy mumbled.

"You don't feel cold." Peter said, reaching for the thermometer. "Neal I'm going to take your temperature again, okay?"

"Mrmmm." The boy's mumble was cut off as he coughed into Peter's shoulder.

Peter cringed, not appreciating being coughed on. He slowly, and cautiously, took the boy's temperature. A little worried at how easily Caffrey was accepting of it. A complete 180 from earlier.

At the beeping of the thermometer, Peter looked at the reading and swore. 103.2 was not good.

"Peter?" Hughes' voice called out as he let himself into the safe house.

Hearing his boss' voice, Peter was able to break through some of his worry clenching at his heart. "In here Hughes." Peter used the now dry washcloth to dry the boy's brow. "Please tell me he can go to the hospital now? Because I'm going to take the kid to one regardless."

Hughes walked into the living room at just the right time to witness Caffrey nestle even closer to Peter, at this point he was practically in Peter's lap. "He sure has you wrapped around his finger."

Peter glared at his boss. He was wrapped around nobody's finger…. Except maybe El's. _Ah, hell. Who am I kidding? I am definitely wrapped around El's finger._

"Are you sure it's actually him?" Hughes's asked sitting down on the other side of Caffrey and bringing Peter back to the present.

"Yeah, he knew about the cards." Peter said wiping the washcloth down the boy's sweaty neck.

Hughes nodded. "And you're sure this isn't some kind of plan to get out the Ruticker case?"

Peter was about to answer when Neal spoke, angrily. "Right here you know? I can actually hear you."

Hughes smirked. "You've got a track record of getting away with lies. You'll have to forgive me for being cautious."

The boy growled before lunging at Hughes. Peter was barely quick enough to grab the boy who still fought against him. "I can assure you, _sir, that_ I did not willing stay in a room in complete darkness, for who bloody knows how fucking long! For whoever knows how long, because I had no way of telling time, all I had to eat was white fucking bread and peanut butter! You fu-"

Peter clamped a hand over the boy's mouth as he was finally able to pull the boy to his chest. "Was that really necessary?" He said glaring at his boss once again.

"We still don't have any proof."

"Mrrmph!" The boy yelled from beneath Peter's hand as he fought to get out of Peter's arms again.

"Regardless, the kid is actually sick and needs a doctor." Peter said getting up, dragging the coughing kid with him. "Wha ever happened to innocent before proven guilty?

Peter could tell Hughes was about to say something before Peter felt something wet and gooey on his hand making him let go of the boy.

Immediately the boy's knees buckled and he fall back down on the sofa short of breath.

Grabbing the washcloth to wipe the green phlegm off his hand, Peter asked. "You alright Neal?"

"Dizzy." The boy answered, weakly, as he tried to steady his breathing.

Worry grabbed Peter's heart and gave it a tight squeeze once again as he picked the boy up, still wrapped in the blanket.

"I'll drive." Hughes said moving to open the front door.

A little taken back, as the offer seemed entirely different from his boss's earlier behavior, Peter nodded.

As Peter passed him in the doorway Hughes talked again. "And your right Peter, I'm sorry."


	5. Chapter 4

Okay, so yeah no update last week. School started and remember I said I'd probably end up not updating as much. It could easily be I update every other week or so. I am NOT abandoning this fic though. So no worries.

Be warned of "poor Neal" moments coming in this chapter. This chapter that took a completely different shape then I was going for, but I like it none the less.

BTW- I did proof read it but I am really tired right now. Just got done reading/studying all of The Odyssey in one sitting, so yeah tired. Anyway, what I am trying to say is I'll proof read it again and fix it up later tonight or tomorrow but wanted to get it up for you guys.

Enjoy. :D

Peter tapped the pen on the clip board the receptionist had handed him. He had no idea how to fill out any of this information, other then of course the boy's name and allergic reaction to Tylenol. He nudged the sleeping boy in question. "Come on Neal, help me fill this out."

"Wha?" Neal merely nudged his head on Peter's arm so his half closed eyes looked up at Peter.

"Come on, they need this information. What's your birthday?"

The boy smirked, tiredly. "I'm 17."

Peter huffed a tired laugh. Even running a high fever, tired and rasping the boy could lie. "One that's your age and not your birthdate. Two you're not 17. No way in a million years are you 17."

"If it's a million years, then how could I be 17?"

Peter's brows furrowed. _What?_

The boy's eyes blinked tiredly.

"Neal." He said sternly, yet not unkindly. "Your birthday?"

Blue eyes studied him from their perch on his arm. Seconds seemed to tick on forever before the boy answered as Peter wrote it in. "March 21st, 2000."

Peter's head shot up.

"What?" Hughes asked looking at the kid from the other side of Neal where he had been reading a magazine. "That… that means you're –"

"It means I'll be 15 in a week." Neal was no longer leaning on Peter's shoulder but was instead sitting up straight, or straighter, supporting his own weight. He was, however, refusing to look at them and instead fiddling with his hands on his lap.

"Wow."

"Um…. I need to go make a call." Hughes said getting up and leaving.

Neal barely let his head rise, as he watched Hughes leave, from under his eyelashes.

"Neal…." Peter let the boy's name hang in the air.

"I'm not lying." The boy's head shot up and stared at Peter.

Peter stared right back. Anger boiling in his gut for the panic and terror in the boy's eyes.

"I'm not lying." Neal whimpered as he lowered his gaze back to his shaking hands.

Peter watched. What had happened to this kid that he enjoyed lying, one upping everyone else and yet feared being accused of lying? Or was the kid hiding something behind all the smirks and sarcasm? Because those smirks sure made it look like he enjoyed lying.

Peter smiled, just a little smile. A barely there smile as he took the boys hands in his, stilling them. "I believe you Neal. Whoever did this to you won't get away with it. We won't let them."

The boy looked up at Peter, confused. "This? What is this? No one did anything to me…." His eyes looked away from Peter once again. "Well except for Ruitaker and his goons."

Peter hugged the boy close, letting the boy burry his face in Peter's chest. "He won't get away with it either. None of them will."

The boy sniveled in his arms.

"Neal… who are your parents?"

Peter could feel the boy's breathe hitch. "It doesn't matter."

Peter sighed. "It does, actually. The State will want to know."

"Why?"

"Are you a runaway Neal?"

"No." The boy shook his head. "I never ran away. Not from either of them." Peter felt him swallow. "I-I should have run. I should've. I sh-should of. I-I…."

"Shh. It's okay." Peter said rocking the boy, slightly. "Did they hurt you?"

Another sniffle was let out as the boy shock his head once again. "They never touched me."

Peter's eyebrows wrinkled. _What is that supposed to mean?_

"Neal Caffrey?" The nurse asked as she walked in at the same time as Hughes and another woman.

Neal reluctantly got up from Peter's arms.

"Neal this is Miss. Lusk, she'll be your social worker, okay?" Hughes said introducing the women who looked like she was just out of college.

Neal nodded before using his sleeve to wipe his face clean from his tears he was still fighting to keep back, and following the nurse and the social worker through a door.

Peter watched him go. Anxiety once again harboring in his gut. Yes the kid had committed crimes, at least one of which they could prove. But…. Something told Peter there was more of a story behind those crimes than he really wanted to know.

He did want to know though. It was eating at him not knowing and that is where the apprehension came from. The fear of what he would find behind the mask of Neal Caffrey's unknowns.


	6. Chapter 5

So quicker update this time. Want to say thanks for all the reviews and followers again. It really means a lot to me.

This chapter is Neal-less, but Hughes is good in this chapter and doesn't come off as a bad guy. Peter also learns a few things about Neal and what he's been through with Ruitaker.

Enjoy.

Peter stared at Ruitaker through the glass walls. A new level of detest for the man since he had last stood in these halls. Before he had just been an art thief and forger or at least the ruthless boss of them who wouldn't think twice about shooting someone who got in his way. So why was he so much more evil now? Why did adding kidnaping to that list make Ruitaker worse to Peter?

"Boss?" Diana's voice drifted through Peter's thoughts. "Are you ready to do this?"

Taking a deep breath Peter nodded. "Let's go."

As they walked in Ruitaker chuckled. "They got you too Lead?"

"Shut up Ruitaker." The lawyer said, going through the motions.

"Mr. Ruitaker I think you will find it is a little more complicated than that." Peter said sitting across from Ruitaker.

Ruitaker's wrinkled face grew slack.

"My name isn't Lead its Agent Peter Burke."

Ruitaker practically growled.

"That's right you gave your 'money making property' to a federal agent." Peter smirked as Ruitaker shifted in his seat, just barely noticeable. "That is what you called him isn't it? Your 'property' your 'piece of property' that you basically traded with me, sold to me." Peter's voice stayed steady but the undertones of rage ready to burst out was clearly evident. "That's called child trafficking if you didn't know already."

Ruitaker smirked as he let out a chuckle. "I know what it is."

The lawyer almost smacked his forehead. "Be quite."

"How long did you have Caffrey?"

Ruitaker smirked. "Oh about four months."

"Ruitaker shut up!"

Ruitaker quickly turned to his lawyer. "NO!" He roared. "You shut up! I am already going to jail for murder. Like I really care about some child trafficking charges!"

It was deathly quiet for a while before Peter spoke again. "Where did you kidnap him?"

Ruitaker snorted. "Kidnap?" He barked out a laugh. "I didn't kidnap him."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean you didn't kidnap him?"

Ruitaker smirked again as he leaned across the table towards Peter. "I mean I bought him."

The lawyer groaned as Peter's mouth almost went slack. "You bought him?"

Ruitaker smirked and nodded as he leaned back in his chair. "Before you ask. I have no idea who the guy was, but he sure as hell didn't mind getting a thousand for him."

Apprehension knotted in Peter's stomach. "What did he look like?"

Ruitaker shrugged. "No idea. We never met. Just dropped off the kid and I left money when I picked him up."

Peter sighed. _It just can't be simple with this kid._

"Has he tricked you yet?" Ruitaker asked in a sing song voice.

Peter studied him. He had wondered that. That the kid might be just conning him. That the fear and story, pieces of the story, were just lies. Tricks to get Peter to pity him, to let him go. But… the boy was young. There was no way he could be older than 16. God if he was 14, almost 15, that meant he was 13 when he did those bonds and they, the FBI, had discovered earlier work. Earlier work which he would have been 9 to 13. Even if he was 16 he would have only been 10-14 in those crimes. That wasn't much better. It still made Peter feel sick.

"I see you thinking. You're doubting yourself." Ruitaker smirked. "Lock him in a dark room. A closet perhaps, an old freezer will do." The wrinkled, yet perfectly groomed, man leaned forward. "He'll scream the truth than. Cry it for you." His smirk widened into a sick grin. "Beg of you to let him out. He'll do anything than."

Bile rose in Peter's throat as he studied Ruitaker.

Ruitaker chuckled. "You should have heard him scream those first few days I had him. The only time he got light was when he was painting. He already hated the dark. Even more so after a week without any light."

Peter swallowed, licked his lips then spoke. "Diana finish up here. I think he's told us everything we needed to know."

Diana nodded, also looking disturbed. Ruitaker wouldn't be having a pleasant trip to the holding cell. "Will do Boss."

Peter walked out calmly. Walked slowly and steadily till he was in the hallway, away from the glass walls. Then he ran, panicked to the bathroom. Barely making it before throwing up.

How could someone do that to anyone? Let alone a child. Because Caffrey, Neal, was just that. A child. A child who, it was becoming increasingly evident, had yet to have a happy childhood. Who had been abused by Ruitaker and probably by whoever sold him too.

Stopping his dry heaves he wiped his face. Heading to the sink he rinsed his mouth out and washed his face.

Ruitaker only had him for four months. Who had him before? Running a search that only went back four months wasn't going to get them anything. K They had to go further back.

 _"They never touched me"_

 _"I never ran away. Not from either of them."_

" _I-I should have run. I should've. I sh-should of. I-I…."_

"O God…" _I hope it's not his parents._ It felt strange to hope that the kid was a kidnap victim.

Hurring from the bathroom he made it back to the office. "Jones? We still have Caffrey's prints?"

Jones's head shot up from his desk. "James Bonds? Yeah we still have them. They never brought up a match though, remember?"

Peter smiled. "That's because we ran the wrong search." At Jones's confused, but eager, look Peter continued. "Run them under missing persons. Starting in 2000 and ending for four months ago."

Jones nodded, still slightly confused but trusting Peter. "Is he really only 16?"

Peter shock his head no. "Not 16. 14, 15 in a week."

Jones's eyes grew big with shock and the ease dropping office, eager for gossip, grew quite with a gasp.

"But that means he was only-"  
"13 when he did the bonds. I know." Peter said sounding weighed down.

"Peter!" Hughes called from his perch and gave Peter the two-finger-point.

Peter swallowed as he made his way up to Hughes's office.

"Caffrey has pneumonia. They had to drain both his lungs, but his fever is down and he's breathing better." Hughes said as he sat down on the corner of his desk.

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"They are going to release him in a couple of days."

"You mean transfer him to juvie?"

Hughes ran a hand down his face. "You and El were thinking about adopting right?"

Peter cocked his head to the side, not sure of where this conversation was going. Well, he had an idea but he wasn't sure he liked it. "Yeah…."

"So you've passed all those tests, paper work and… things?"

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, we can foster now."

Hughes smiled looking at Peter. "Good than you can foster Caffrey."

"What?" Peter struggled to not shoat at his boss.

"The psychologist doesn't think juvie would benefit him. Thinks it would just make it worse for the boy. Something about no familial understanding not to mention they'd probably not be able to actually keep him in."

"What do you mean? Keep him in?" Peter asked confused.

Hughes chuckled. "It seems no one can keep the cuffs on the boy."

"And you want me to keep him at my house? How do you think I'm going to be able to keep him there?"

"With this." Hughes said holding up an anklet.

"You want to put a tracking anklet on a teenager"

"I want to keep a 14 year old out of prison." Hughes sighed. "Something about the way he was crying in your arms earlier tells me we're missing something."

Peter nodded. "Ruitaker bought him. Didn't kidnap him." He shook his head. "The kid hasn't had the best childhood it seems."

"Do you believe that or do you think they are playing you?" Hughes asked.

Peter smirked as he shook his head. "I don't know about Ruitaker but Caffrey…. Neal….. It seems so raw, and he didn't fake being sick."

"So Caffrey faking his stories? Yes or no?"

Peter stared at his boss as Hughes stared back. It took a little while for Peter to answer. "No. He's telling the truth. He might not know he is telling the truth but he is."

Hughes nodded. "Okay. So you going to foster him?"

Peter nodded. "Let me talk to El first."

Jones nocked on the door. "Peter you had me run Caffrey's prints."

"Yeah" Peter said a little shocked something had already come up. "You have something already?"  
Jones nodded handing him a folder. "Danny Brookes went missing November 6th, 2007. Was reported missing by a family friend November 8th."

Flipping open the folder Peter found himself staring at a 7 year old Neal Caffery. A huge smile covered his face as he hugged the older woman who could have been his grandmother. That was how he had always imagined Caffrey. Happy with eyes dancing with mischief. Not this sick, sad, and yes he'll say it, abused kid he had seen this afternoon.

Hughes phone rang. Making them all look away from the file. Hughes answered it as Jones and Peter stepped out of the room.

"Why wasn't he reported missing sooner if he disappeared on the 6th?"

Jones shrugged. "I don't know but it wasn't a family member who reported it. It was a family friend."

Peter swallowed, then sighed. His gut turning again, twisting. This want sounding good.

"Peter." Hughes called from his door way. "You want to tell me why the U.S. Marshals are on the phone wanting to know why we are looking into a Neal Bennett?"

"Who?" Jones asked as Peter said "What?"

Hughes handed him a paper, still warm from Hughes's fax machine.

An even younger picture of Caffrey stared back at him with the name Neal George Bennett typed below it.

 _Just who is Neal Caffrey?_


	7. Chapter 6

So one more Neal-less chapter and more into what is going on in Peter's head. Also El kind of comes off as an emotional mess in this chapter, but we all now she _is so not_ a mess. That said I think the response she has to letting a kid who should be in juvie into her home is appropriate.

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and followers. It makes my day and makes me want to get through my homework quicker. Thank You! :D

BTW: My keyboard is sticking, I hit a key and it doesn't work. Anyone got any good cleaning tips for cleaning laptop keyboards? I've already done they can of air.

Enjoy

For once in Peter's life he found himself thankful for the boring elevator music. It allowed him, to feel like he was drifting in his thoughts. In many ways he was.

 _Are these clothes and shoes going to fit Neal?_ El had insisted she go out and buy a few outfits for the kid as soon as she found out he was barefoot and only had one filthy outfit.

 _Ah El._ She wasn't exactly thrilled when Peter told her about Neal and that Hughes had asked them to foster the kid. Oh she pitied the poor boy right up till Peter mentioned Hughes's plan. Understandably she was worried about their valuables being stolen. Quite frankly so was Peter and even now he planned to lock a few things up and out of sight before the kid come over. What really got Peter the most though was how worried El was that the boy would kill them in their sleep. Peter had been so taken back by her worry he had sat there slack jawed as she rambled.

Killing anyone, anything, was so unlike Neal that Peter simply could not respond, not till El had practically dropped his plate in front of him.

Telling El Neal had avoided violence in every case Peter had ever read had done little to ease her worry. Altemtly what got her to agree with the plan was the two pictures of the boy Peter had just received. The one having been taken when he was just 3 years old and the other right before he went missing at the age of 7. Those two pictures, learning he basically had no clothing to his name and had been sold to Peter where what broke El into agreeing to take the boy in.

Peter had actually been surprised by the tears that came at learning he was sold. She had been so fearful about the boy and then so worried for him so quickly it seemed a switch had been flipped.

The elevator dinged and more people entered. After a quick nod and smile Peter returned to back to his thoughts.

 _Danny Brookes, Neal George Bennett, and Neal George Caffrey._

Peter had figured they were done with all of Caffrey's aliases but Neal Bennett and Danny Brookes through him for a loop. _Where had they come from? Because a 3 year old isn't going to change their identity._

First there was Neal George Bennett, which as far as anyone could find out was the real Neal. For some reason he had been placed in WITSEC and given the name Danny Brookes but no one knew why and the marshals weren't speaking. They, the FBI, knew it had something to do with Neal's father, James Bennett, but the marshals had blacked out all the information in his file, effectively leaving them in the dark.

Peter knew the marshals knew something because they would meet in Hughes's office or another empty office before and after meeting with the Peter's team and the missing person's team in the conference room.

Really all Peter wanted to know was how the U.S. Marshals had managed to lose a 3 year old they were supposed to be protecting and making sure he didn't get kidnapped by whoever they were protecting the Bennetts from. That was who Peter figured took the kid, someone aiming to get to James Bennett but without any incite on who or what James Bennett was (or even is) he was stuck.

 _But what do you know Peter?_ Peter asked himself trying to get back to the task at hand.

Neal George Bennett. Age 3 when he entered WITSEC and given the name Danny Brookes. _At age 3 it would be easy to get him to forget about being Neal Bennett. It's doubtful he remembers now being Neal Bennett._

Danny Brookes. Neal's WITSEC identity. Went missing at age 7. _At 7 it would have still been easy to get him to forget about being Danny Brookes and get him to go by another name._

Another name like Neal George Caffrey. That name Peter couldn't understand or figure out. _How did Danny Brookes go back to being Neal George? I just couldn't be a coincident, could it?_ It just didn't make any since. _And what is with the last name Caffrey?_ Diana was running the last name to see if anything fit but so far nothing had come up.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on to his floor. Peter took a deep breath before walking forward. It didn't take long for him to be buzzed in and for the paperwork to be clarified about who was Caffrey's guardian.

Before he knew it he was walking towards Neal's room determined to find out what the boy knew about his own kidnapping.


	8. Chapter 7

Thank you for all the reviews. You guys keep making my day!

Okay so to the people who keep asking about the cards and Neal's question of "did you find it yet?". It'll come up later, I promise.

Also I think I'm going to stick to just Peter's POV, maybe El's. I don't know, Neal's might get in there yet, I'm not sure.

Sorry to disappoint if you were hoping for El in this chapter. We won't be seeing her till Neal is out of the hospital and maybe seen the office once. So a few more chapters.

So what is in this chapter? Well we get more info on Neal's past and more Peter being all soft and all fatherly.

Enjoy :D

._.

Having shown the guard at the door his badge Peter walked into the hospital room to witness the marshal in the room push Neal back on the bed while tightly clamping a cuff on the boy's wrist effectively tethering the boy to the bed, but not without a yelp from the kid.

"Will you sit still you miserable little-"

"I believe you are supposed to make sure I put this on him correctly?" Peter said holding up the anklet making his presences known and getting the bulky marshal to stop hovering over the boy.

"Yes sir." The marshal, who was about Peter's own age, said stepping away from Caffrey.

"Alright then." Peter said putting down the bundle of clothing at the foot of the bed and looking up at Neal. "Alright Neal I'm going to need a leg."

The boy swallowed as he looked from the marshal to Peter and then to the door before looking back at Peter. Looking bashful he took his time removing the blankets around his feet.

As soon as the light was on and it beeped along with Peter's phone Peter looked to the marshal. "I believe you can leave now. Just let me get your-" Peter stopped midsentence as Neal held up the open cuffs that had been previously tethering him to the bed.

The boy smiled in mock bashfulness as mischief danced in his blue eyes and across his face.

Grabbing the cuffs out of the boy's hands the marshal left muttering "Damn Bennett's" under his breath.

Peter sighed, somewhat confused as at how the marshal knew Neal was a Bennett but he dropped it quickly after figuring the marshal was probably working on the case as well.

"So they weren't lying when they said they can't keep the cuffs on you." Peter said sitting down next to the bed.

"It's just part of my charm." The boy smiled mischievously, even with the nasal cannula on.

Peter noticed, though, the boy was rubbing his wrist. Slowly Peter took the boy's wrist and brought it closer to him for inspection. Bruises were evident on the boy's arm in the shape and pattern of fingers. On the boy's wrist its self were bruises and scrapes from the cuffs. "Are these old or new?"

Yanking his arm away from Peter the boy grumbled.

"Just tell me Neal. You won't be in trouble either way."

The boy stared at him with blue eyes that were bright, but no longer bright with fever. It took him a little while but he finally spook, quietly and genuinely bashful. "Some of both."

Peter smiled. "See that wasn't so hard was it?" He said ruffling the boy's shaggy head which only bought him a bewildered look from the boy.

"I'll be right back." Peter said, still smiling.

It didn't take long to find a nurse and explain the marshal's incompetence. He was back in the boy's room with the nurse in less than five minutes but it was enough for the boy to disappear.

Peter could feel his heart pumping as dread settled in his stomach once again.

"Neal!?"

The sound of running water could be heard before the bathroom door squeaked open revealing the boy trying to stand on one leg. "Yeah Peter?"

Relief washed through Peter. "Get in bed now." He almost growled but quickly regretted it when he saw the boy flinch back.

The blue eyes stayed hidden behind his eyelashes as he made his way to the bed, dragging the medical equipment he was connected to with him allowing Peter to see the brace on the boy's knee.

Feeling slightly guilty Peter stayed back as the nurse made sure everything was where it was supposed to be and then tended to the boy's wrist, cleaning the scraps and then wrapping it in a soft bandage.

After checking everything was in order one last time and reminding Neal (and consequently Peter as well) that his Doctor would be by to check on him in a little while the nurse left with a knowing and humored smile for Peter.

Silence overtook the room as Neal played with his splintered fingers. The exoskeleton that Peter had last seen on the boy's hand was gone and now only his index and ring finger were in splints.

"So." Peter finally relented to the silence deciding he really did need to find out about the boy's past. "Your real name is Neal George Caffrey?"

"It's what I go by." The boy said stealing a glance at Peter.

Peter sighed, running a hand over his face. _Not the answer I was looking for but not a lie either._ "But not your real name is it?"

The boy looked up at Peter than and stared. Emotionless.

Or so it seemed.

The longer Peter stared back the more fear he could detect in those blue eyes.

"Why don't you want to go by Neal George Bennett?"

"Why should I want to?" The boy asked seeming innocent, but the barley there hiccup in his voice betrayed him.

Peter sighed once again. "Neal, why do you go by Caffrey and not Bennett?"

The boy fidgeted. Peter let the silence do his work for him. Let the boy stew till he was boiling over.

After avoiding eye contact with Peter for a good three minutes the boy made eye contact with Peter. Bearing those wet blue eyes right into Peter's gut. "Would you? Would you want the name of the man who drove your mother to drugs and alcohol?" He laughed bitterly and triumphantly. "It was what he wanted me to call myself, what he would call me. Neal Bennett. Son." He spit the words out like they were bitter on his tong. "But he could never make me say it, call myself that. It made him so mad. So, so, so mad. Using Mom's maiden name. It was the only thing I had and he hated it!" At this point the boy was rocking in his bed, hands gripping the blankets like it was his lifeline.

"Neal, Neal calm down okay. He's not here now and he'll never be near you again if I have my way okay?" Peter said moving to the edge of the bed and holding the boy to his chest, trying to calm him down at the same time he was trying to calm himself down. _Oh please let it be some uncle, not the father, please not the father._

The boy nodded against Peter's chest gasping for breath as he tried to stop from sobbing. Already tears were soaking into his shirtfront.

"But Neal, in order for me to do that I need his name okay? You have to give me his name. Who kidnapped you from your mother?" He had an idea, but he needed it cemented in order for him to do anything about it.

The boy shook his head. "He… he didn't kidnap me. He… he bought me."

Peter sighed, thinking the boy was talking about Ruitaker.

"My own mother sold me, for three measly shots of heroin, to my father." The boy huffed. You know what the crazy thing was? It was like I actually had a family then. Even if my father was a lunatic and would call me all sorts of things and sometimes lock me up it still felt like I actually had a family again." The boy stopped to sob once again.

Peter gulped.

" _No familial understanding."_ Hughes words haunted Peter.

How could the boy have a familial understanding with a family like that?The poor boy had never been kidnapped, no he had been sold twice each time by a parent. Peter tightened his grip on the boy, rubbing his back.

"Your father, James Bennett, took you from your mother when you were 7?" He needed it clarified, spelled out.

The boy's head nodded into his chest. "Yes, James Bennett bought me, took me, from my mother when I was 7."

"Okay." Peter said taking a deep breath. "We can work with that, we'll find him, keep him away from you."

The boy snorted as he shifted to look up at Peter. "He's been running from the law since I was three. What makes you think you'll be able to catch him know?"

Peter smiled, wiping a tear off the boy's cheek. "Because we have you now."

._.

Now I can go back to writing my paper on American mating styles (this class on the family is going to kill me!)


	9. Chapter 8

Happy punctuation Day! Sorry for such a long wait. I've had papers after papers to write (mainly for one soc. class. Ugh. And I thought being an English major was bad). But anyway here is is the next chapter and hopefully I'll be able to post more regularly again.

Enjoy.

Chapter 8

Peter was at his wit's end. This kid could not sit still. Even all the tubes and wires attached to him didn't hinder him from fighting all over the place. Keeping the kid's slick fingers away from the IV and nasal cannula were genning to be the vain of Peter's existence.

"Will you sit still!"

The boy's hand stopped midway to his nose and the other hand stopped twisting the blankets. A look of surprise covered the boy's face but fear shined through the blue orbs.

"Thank you." Peter sighed. "Now, keep your hands away from the oxygen cannula and you're IV and for the love of chocolate be still."

Fear vanished from the boy's eyes as he relaxed and let this hand fall to his lap. "But I'm bored." He dragged on the last word as only a teenager could.

"We could turn on the TV?" Peter suggested already reaching for the remote and putting down the confiscated magazine from the lobby.

Neal's face scrunched with displeasure. "There's only sports on."

Peter smiled. "Good, I'll turn on the Hockey game."

The boy let out a groan as he fell back onto the bed. "No, please no. Anything but sports please!"

Peter has to chuckle a the kid's antics. "Whats wrong with sports?"

The boy just rolled his head towards Peter and stared.

Peter smirked. "Okay no sports. But, if you try to take out the IV or cannula again I'll handcuff you."

It was the boy's turn to smirk.

 _For pete sake did the boy get out of cuffs for fun?_

"Fine. I'll have the nurses put you in a straight jacket."

The boy's grin only broadened. However, there was something like pain quivering in his eyes.

Peter let out an amused groan. "Of course you can get out of those too."

"Sorry Peter there isn't much that can hold me anymore." Though it was said teasingly the hint of pain and fear was still there.

"Tell you what, sit still for half an hour and I'll get someone to bring you something to keep you occupied. Okay? Sound good?" Peter said taking his phone out and texting Diana.

"A half an hour?" The boy questioned skeptically.

"A half an hour." Peter repeated.

"I can try but what if I can't keep still?" Genuine worry flashed over the boy's face.

"You'll still get whatever Diana brings you and I won't do anything to you but be disappointed in you." Truth be told he'd be impressed if the kid just tried.

"Disappointed?" Neal asked confused.

"Yes disappointed."

"But, you won't do anything to me?" This seemed to be a new concept to the boy. "Or call me names, or say anything cruel or put me in-" The boy was panting now the words coming rapidly before they cut off in favor of breathing. The oxygen and heart monitor started going off.

Peter took the boy's hands in his trying to calm the boy down. "Neal, calm down. Okay? I won't hurt you, I won't do any of those things. Okay?"

Slowly the machines ceased to beep frantically and the only sound left was the sound of Neal gulping deep breaths through his nose.

"What did your father do to you?" Peter said quietly, so quietly he thought Neal would not be able to hear him. It was not the case.

The boy's blue eyes shot Peter's sending panicked arrows through them. "He never touched me. Neither of my parents did. They never gave me so much as a bruise."

It was the second time he had brought it up and something finally clicked in Peter's head.

Careful of the all wires and tubes Peter climbed into the bed next to Neal and hugged him. He knew the nurses would not be pleased with him but something told him the kid needed the kind of TLC that wires and tubes could never give.

"Neal" he said turning the boy's head so those blue eyes were once again searching his for his very soul. "They didn't need to touch you to hurt you."

The blue eyes blinked.

"Do you understand?"

A small shake of the head was all he got.

Peter sighed trying to find his words. "You ever seen a wild dog? a feral cat? or an unbroke horse?"

"I went to a rodeo once and watched the bronco busting. Does that count?"  
A gentle smile spread across Peter's face. "It'll work. You remember how those horses didn't like the feeling of a person on their back?"

A quiet nod and Peter thought maybe the boy was watching that very day right then.

"Well wild horses or horses that are unbroke will buck and do all that just like the broncos you saw. But a horse that was brought up with the right training and handled everyday with loving hands will be more willing to accept the person on his back. Through the gentle touch and words from the people around him he'll learn to trust people even when one of them sits on his back. Another horse who hasn't had those hands on him, loving him up, won't be nearly as trusting of the person going to sit on him. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

The boy stifled a yawn. "Yeah, I think so. That no touch can be just as harmful as bad touch."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, and the wrong kinds of words can be harmful too."

When he got no reply Peter took looked down to see the boy slumped on his shoulder.

Peter smiled. _That is one way he'll stay still for a half an hour._

And if fact it was just how Diana discovered them not twenty minutes later.

Dang it Neal! Why do you always end up in Peter's arms at the end of a chapter?


	10. Chapter 9

Well, it still took me a bit to update, sorry. I kinda forgot all about midterms.

Thank you for all the followings, favorites and comments. You have no idea how happy they make me. I had no idea you guys liked this story that much. Thank you.

Enjoy.

Chapter 9

Diana struggled to keep a straight face after she walked into the hospital room to see her boss sitting on the bed reading a Better Homes and Gardens magazine with a sleeping teenager on his shoulder.

"You have no idea just how cute the two of you are." She said placing the stack of files and a notepad on the seat next to the bed as well as a bag of crossword puzzles.

Peter smiled. "I wonder if El would think so." He said carefully getting off the bed so as to not disturb the still sleeping teen.

"I'm sure she'd think it was cute too, Boss."

Peter sighed as he stretched his back while watching Neal burrow deeper into the covers. "Let's talk outside."

They didn't wander far from the room, just down the hall and around a corner before they stopped.

"Anything new on Ruitaker?"

Diana shook her head. "No, Jones is working on getting a location from him or one of his goonies now. Hughes wants to know where the boy was held."

Peter nodded feeling slightly numb. "Caffrey's father sold him to Ruitaker and the boy's mother sold him to his father. Or so he says."

"It would make sense. The mother never reported him missing. It was the family friend." Diana said, sadly.

"This isn't how I pictured the suave and carefree Neal Caffrey." Peter said leaning on the wall as he dragged a hand over his face.

Diana sighed. "It isn't how any of us pictured James Bonds, Boss. Heck he's a kid, a 16 year old."

"14"

"What?" Diana asked having been interrupted."

"He's not 15 till next week."

Diana blinked. "Damn."

Peter nodded. He felt overwhelmed by this new psychoanalysis they had for Caffrey. _How had they been so wrong?_

"My point is, Boss, none of us saw this coming and now we're all going to work together to put the pieces back together." She smiled. "You aren't going to do this alone. All of us, together, are going to work on the puzzle. Okay?"

Peter nodded. "I know and thank you for reminding me."

They talked for a bit longer about a couple of cases before Peter checked his watch. "Neal's doctor should be coming soon. We better get back."

When they walked back into Neal's room the boy was sitting up in bed holding a teddy bear in his lap with a confused look on his face.

Peter didn't remember see the large teddy bear before. The brown shaggy bear want huge but it filled the boy's lap. "Where did that come from?" He asked, looking at Diana who he figured snuck it in and Neal found it while they were out of the room. Diana, however, was at the door checking the hall and questioning the marshal at the door.

"Agent Hughes." Neal said quietly as he fidgeted with the red bow around the bear's neck. "He wanted to apologies."

Peter and Diana shared a look of surprise. Hughes hardly ever did apologies, he never needed to, especially to a kid they had been chasing for a year.

"Peter?" Neal whispered, leaning towards where Peter was standing next to the bed.

"Yeah Neal?" Peter whispered back, leaning closer to the boy who was stealing glances at Diana.

"What do you do with a teddy bear?"

The question made Peter take a step back as he made eye contact with blue eyes that shined with innocents. _An odd look,_ Peter decided, _for the kid to have._

"What?"

The boy fidgeted in his seat. "You know." He bit his lip before holding the bear up. "What's its purpose?"

Peter blinked. "Um, well…." _That's a good question._ "You… um…. It…."

"Teddy bears are for cuddling with." Diana saved him from embarrassingly rambling as she sat down in a chair.

Neal jumped at Diana's voice but seeing Peter smile and thank her the boy relaxed.

"Cuddling?"

"Yep cuddling." Diana said matterafactly.

Neal's dark head bobbed quietly as he studied her. After a period of silence the boy asked curiously. "Are you a marshal?"

"Am I a marshal?" Diana replied sounding almost insulted.

Peter kicked himself for forgetting introductions. "Neal this is Agent Diana Berrigan. She's part of my team.

Neal's eyes got big with excitement and recognition. "Oh, Diana. Okay." His eyes twinkled in a way that openly said he knew more than he was letting on.

Peter just chuckled and shook his head at Diana's stormy glare and confused face as well as Neal. For someone who knew all about their lives the boy knew nothing of their appearances.

All three of them jumped when someone knocked on the door a dark haired, short and curvy woman walked in a white lab coat walked in, Dr. Diaz. "Hello, Neal I hope you're feeling better today."


End file.
